Where flowers danced
by Alaskangal26
Summary: How young is too young to experience love at first sight? This is a story of a young girl who unknowingly falls in love, and a boy who realizes that even in silence, true love rings loud when it's felt with the heart.


I could see the sun shining between my toes as I tried to touch the sky with my bare feet. The sun on my face was a round orange flashlight flickering on and off as I rose high and low on my swing. It was the summer of 82', and my father was in the army stationed at Ft. Hood. Past the chain link fence of my backyard and between two housing units was a playground. A multicolored mini obstacle course amidst the random percussion sounds of artillery shells. The day was hot, the wind was hotter, and I had just learned to swing all by myself and without the help of my dad.

Off to the side and huddled together like cattle were the big kids. And even thought I didn't understand what they talked about, I knew it was important stuff because they were 5th graders. The girls had long limbs, protruding knees, enough lip gloss to fry chicken and a dirty look- aimed and ready. One of the boys- the leader I suppose- was a short plumped red head. If he wasn't stuffing Choco-chums into his mouth, he was telling the younger kids what to do. He used words I didn't understand at that time. Most of them starting with the letter "f" for Francy fish (one of the zoo phonic letters I learned in kindergarten.) They sounded funny and felt even funnier the way your bottom lip would slide under your top teeth. If only he didn't pinch his face and tower over the smaller kids whenever he yelled these words.

I was swinging and scanning the playground, watching kids of all ages run around. Some I recognized from my elementary school. None were kids in my classroom although I did recognize some faces from the school hallways_._

And then I saw him. He was sitting on the grass under the shade of a large oak tree. He sat with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. He sat there looking at me, smiling as if watching me gave him as much pleasure as if he was on the swing himself. We locked eyes and he quickly looked up at the blue sky, as if- like in my drawings- the sky was now white and the clouds blue.

I dragged my feet until the swing came to a complete stop and still there he sat. I brought my hand to my face and brushed away a few crazed hairs. When my face was free of golden brown strands, he had returned to look my way. We stared at each other for what felt like a really long time. And a really long time to any six year old can range from a few seconds to a minute. After a minute, it's an eternity.

A voice came from the swing next to me and I was forced to look away from the staring boy. "Get off the swing" it ordered. I turned to look into the yellow eyes of the red haired boy. But before I could protest, he grabbed me by the arm, and with one sharp thrust, yanked me right off the swing.

I fell to the ground, scraping my knees and palms on the steaming asphalt. I began to sob, because at that age, it was all I knew to do. The red haired boy walked away and I could hear the kids on the other swings taunting and laughing, while I sat there looking over the little red scrapes on my knees. Small lines of red speckled with dirt appeared where my palms had rubbed the ground and stung like hot cinnamon candy. A shadow casted over me and I looked up to see a face looking down. My staring friend had the clearest blue eyes and I imagined that I was looking thru them and out onto the same colored sky. His hair was a short buzz cut, his cheeks pink and sunburned. He was older than me, but not older than the red haired bully that had pulled me off the swing. Like the prince in a Disney movie, I wanted to believe he came over to say something in my defense, or say something to me, anything.

But he just stared.

He eyed my knees and open palms. He curiously studied my face. There was tenderness to his stare like I had never seen before- not even in my own mother. And as weird as this observation was- I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world.

Between sniffles I managed to say a shy "Hello" but his expression was fixed and he didn't answer.

"What's your name?" I pressed on. But he just continued to stare at me with that same intrigued expression.

Rolls of loud laughter coming from the swings caught my attention for a brief moment and when I turned back at my quiet companion his expression had changed all too quickly. He stared at the red haired boy (whose name I just found out to be Lionel,) with angered annoyance. His breathing accelerated and his fists balled up white.

Lionel began walking towards us, and by the looks of it was just as angry. He didn't appreciate the looks being given off by this scrawny smaller boy.

"Don't look at me like that, fagot." Lionel sneered.

My staring friend deliberately took a few steps forward, positioning himself in a protective manner between Lionel and me.

"I said, don't be looking at me like that you fff..." But before Lionel could finish one of his famous f words, the quiet boy threw a fist and popped Lionel right in the eye. Lionel fell to the ground, looked around him startled and then threw his head back, releasing one of the loudest, most awful cries that the whole playground witnessed.

I watched as my friend's panting slowed down, his fists loosened and relaxed into ten perfect fingers. I was completely absorbed by this chivalrous act to notice my dad approaching until he had picked me up off the ground and began pulling me back towards the house.

"No dad, no!" I yelled and tried to twist my arm free from his mighty hold. This unexplained rush of emotion surprised me. I didn't understand why I felt this way or why I even cared for that boy. I didn't even know his name, but he had impacted me so much with just one look. At an age when all kids wanted to do was play and run outside, it all seemed insignificant to being with him.

"I don't want to see you out here with these boys. You understand? My dad said in a stern voice.

As I was led away I turned to look back at the boy who never told me his name. We locked eyes and his gaze never left mine. My dad locked the gate and walked back inside the house. I stood inside my backyard looking out through the metal bars in an outdoor prison. My friend had followed us and came to sit under another tree, one that was closer to my backyard. It was a good thing that my father never noticed him and allowed me to play in the backyard until it was time for dinner. I spent the rest of the evening playing and twirling round and round in circles. We were in sync for the rest of the summer. Me in my back yard twirling in my summer dress and my little friend always a few feet away from my reach, watching me run around, sing, and twirl. Yet a word was never spoken.

And that was okay.

When fall arrived, so did the news of another military move. We would be leaving Texas and moving to Ft. Drum New York, and it was the saddest day of my young life. The morning we were scheduled to leave I ran to the backyard to see if he was there. It was early morning and I knew I couldn't leave without saying goodbye, without seeing my quiet little friend one last time. I stood in my back yard with heavy disappointment that hung to me like damp, wet, clothes. I looked out and saw no one under his tree. The whole playground was empty as I knew it would be since school had started and most children were in class. I couldn't move, I didn't want to move, I held on to hope that for some reason he would be there.

I wondered. Maybe he's behind the tree? Maybe he's somewhere in the playground and I just can't see him. Maybe, if my eyes would just search better, they would find him. So there I stood in that warm burnt orange morning, the crisp smell of earth and wet pavement, the faraway voices, and then the startling low rumble of a large u-haul. I was forced to face the reality I so feared. That I would never see him again, never say goodbye. And I would leave this place with just a summer's worth of memories. I turned to walk away crestfallen, when I heard the soft rapid taps of footsteps. I turned to see my friend running towards my backyard fence. His backpack trailing behind him as he dragged it and refused to let it slow him down. He stopped at the fence, dropping his backpack carelessly with a sharp thump. His cheeks were flushed, struggling to even his breath, he swallowing deeply, the way someone would before they speak.

I ran to him "I'm leaving" I cried. But he already knew. I don't know how, but I knew he knew. I wished he would say goodbye to me, but in the end it was better like this. He never spoke to me the whole time I played in the backyard while he sat contently under his tree. I sure wasn't expecting him to say anything to me now. But deep down it would have been nice, deep down I wanted to say "please, say goodbye to me." He must have somehow channeled into this unspoken feeling because he extended his thin arm through the metal diamond and touched my face. We stayed in silence until my mother called for me. He hesitated before pulling his arm away, and just as suddenly as he had appeared in my life- he was gone.

The summer that I turned eighteen, my family began its journey south to Austin, Texas. My father had liked Texas so much, that now that he was retiring from the Army, he wanted to move back there to live. We already had a house picked out- about an hours' drive from the house we use to live in Ft Hood. The drive down to Texas was long but I had packed a few of my favorite books inside my travel bag. I was re reading one of my favorite books. A simple sky blue cover with the title "Where the flowers danced" by a new author named J. Fitzgerald. I loved how I could relate my childhood friendship to the book. Although the main male character was a very talkative and outgoing boy- nothing like my childhood friend. The female character I could relate to perfectly, right down to even sharing the same name.

A few weeks after we arrived I enrolled at a community college where I met Jay. He was studying business management, drove a sports car, and was way older than me. But we hit it off right away and began dating. Everything was moving like it should and at a pace I was happy with. That was until I told him I was thinking about changing my major.

We were sitting at our favorite coffee shop- well; it was really _his_ favorite coffee shop. I could care less for the fancy décor or the stylish black uniform that the employees were required to wear- Black on black, how sophisticated! That's how they suck you in, you see. You walk in and they want you to believe that you're somewhere trendy, somewhere artsy and happening. Instead you're in a small southern town. I couldn't be any more oblivious to the Jazz CD playing in the background and I wasn't crazy about the drinks with the fancy Italian names. In the end it's was just an overpriced coffee shop where it's more about the ambiance than the food and service. We have been coming here for weeks now and sitting at "our" table, that what I really enjoyed was the little routine we had going. I looked up from my book just as Jay was taking a sip from his seven dollar mint chocolate frappuccino and said "I think I want to work with children. Disabled children."

"Why would you want to do that?" he gave me a look as If I had just said, "I want to work training poisonous snakes."

"Because I like children and I feel that I could help them. Plus, I have been taking sign language. Do you even realize how rewarding that would be? To help not just a child, but a child born with what many would consider an obstacle. I could help them learn and grow and succeed in life like any other child." My voice had risen just like it tended to do whenever I was excited about something.

"No, I don't. I thought we were going to move in together and save money like we had talked about. As a matter of fact I wanted to meet you here and offer you a great proposition." Jay said dryly.

"Okay, shoot." But I already knew where this was going. Jay had asked me to quit school and work so I could help him pay for his college. And then once he's done he would-and I quote- "get an awesome job making all this money" and then he would help pay for me to finish school.

"My parents said we could live in their basement for cheap, almost nothing even."Now _he_ sounded excited and leaned his chair closer to me. As if the closer he got to my ear, the easier to convince I would be. "It has a kitchen, its own entrance, and think of all the money we could save."

"I don't care how much money we'd save. I can't, we've been through this, Jay. And I know myself, if I leave school I'll never finish. And I'm not sure if I'm ready to move out of my house. My family and I, we just moved here, and really...we just met. "

Jay gave me a doubtful look and sat back on his chair.

"This is from all those books you've been reading." He sighed and shook his head. "Every time Emma, every time you start reading your books you get all kinds of ideas. What you need to do is stop reading all these fantasy books. Life isn't a fantasy. You never have time for me and every time I see you, you're either reading or changing your plans. And I had a good plan going here"

"What does me reading books have anything to do with moving in together?"

At that moment a chime rang and a group of girls walked into the coffee shop, giggling as they walked past our table. I watched as Jay eyed them as they walked by and for a minute forgot what we were talking about. When he finally turned to look at me to continue his rant, only managed to repeat what he had already said.

"Well for one you never have time for me. Every time I see you, your nose is stuck in some book. I figured that if we at least lived together I would see more of you. I'm older than you, Em. I think I may have a better understanding of what's best for us."

"What's best for us?" I fumed. I stood up and began to walk away, almost knocking over his expensive drink. Jay called after me but I purposely ignored him. I was a tiny bit disappointed when I reached my car and realized that he hadn't bother to follow after me. "Read too much? I'll show him" I flung open the door and stepped into my car, slamming it closed a little too hard. My little childhood friend would be so proud to know that I no longer sit there and take crap from people. "I'll show him" I repeated as I made my way to the best place I could think of at that moment.

The library.

Walking down long aisles I marveled at the endless rows of books. I could live here I thought. My life well spent, lost in imaginary worlds of far off lands. Where reality and imagination can trade places, and the only map you will ever need, is the book you hold in your hand.

Not sure of what I was looking for I wandered around and came across my favorite section, young adult fiction.

Feeling a bit spontaneous, I came up with a plan. I would allow Destiny to determine my fate. The next book I set eyes on would be the same as a coin tossed in the air. It's simple, effective, but most important, no turning back. I reached out and grabbed a book. I closed my eyes and decided that if the author was a woman, I would walk out of that library and call Jay. If the author was a man, I would stay here in this library until I very well pleased and never worry about calling Jay again. I opened my eyes and didn't even get the chance to look down at the book I held in my hand. There at the end of the aisle, just as struck as I was, my childhood friend stood.

I couldn't believe it was him, my little friend who to this day was the fuel to my nostalgia and my reason to day dream. The summer I spent locked inside a small chained gate, yet it was the best summer of my life. I placed the book back on the shelf.

He was tall and masculine. Far from being that skinny boy I remembered, who looked like even the wind could push over. Still, he had that short buzzed haircut and those beautiful blue eyes that spoke to me when he didn't. He was incredibly gorgeous in a beautiful simple way. He was carrying a few books, which he set aside the minutes our eyes locked. He flashed me a warm smile and I knew he remembered me.

"Hi" I said and his smile widened. "I just want to say thank you for um...standing up for me that day at the playground. I know, that was years ago. You're probably wondering how I even remember," I laughed nervously. "I don't know if you remember but we use to...sort of play. Well technically, no. You just watched. Sort of-" My nervousness was turning to full blown giddiness as I forced myself to wipe the ridiculous grin I knew I had planted on my face. He had a way of staring at me, of looking over my face as if it were the first and last time he would ever lay eyes on it. Although it was the same stare, I became aware of a deeper feeling behind it. When I was a child and use to think it was a bit odd. Now I saw the real nature of it and it made me feel even more nervous and entirely admired all at once.

"So, I moved back here and well...now I'm calling this place home again. So yeah-" I paused. I was becoming incoherent, awkward, and I was rambling. The way he just stood there smiling at me, silent. I did the only thing I could think of- I kept talking.

"The town hasn't changed at all. Have you always lived here? Because when we met that day at the park I thought you were military as well. Actually you're the last person I thought I would run into. Not that I stopped thinking about you, it's just I didn't know your name and...Wow did I really just say that I thought about you? What I really meant to say-" I could feel my face blush and I was being loud now. I had the habit of letting my mouth run wild out of nervousness or excitement. This time it was a mixture of both.

"I must be talking your ear off" I laughed nervously. For some reason, unknown to me, saying those words made me look at his ear. I immediately noticed a flesh colored hearing aid that I had never seen or noticed as a child.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." My hands instinctively shot up to cover my mouth; I realized what I had just said and was especially embarrassed by the joking manner I had said it. But It all made sense. Why he was so quiet, why he never said a word, and now- I just came across as the biggest jerk.

He placed his hands in front of him and signed "_I'm J-O-S-E-P-H_"; he nervously bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'm Emma" I spoke out loud. He smiled as if I had said something funny. And then I realized that he already knew my name from the countless times my father yelled it. He was mute, not deaf.

"_Welcome back"_

The rest of the day was spent in a place we _both_ enjoyed. We hurdled ourselves on a quiet corner of the library and since I knew sign language, it was as if we were in our own little story, our own little world that belonged only to us. He told me in detail everything that happened that summer. He remembered everything from to the floral pattern on my sundress to the sound of my laughter, and even the way the corners of my lips would pull downward the minute my father's voice would call me in for dinner. He told me how he would lie in bed wanting the nights to pass by quickly just so he could run back outside and wait for me to emerge from my house. His memory was detailed and amazing. He confessed that the day I left he came here to this library and began to read to make the days pass.

"_I'm never leaving._" I had to assure him.

He leaned closer to me, and our knees touched, making the space between us small and intimate. A little embarrassed I had to look around to see if anyone was watching us, but Joseph on the other hand, didn't seem to care.

"_Promise me you won't?"_

"_I promise._"

He pulled back and gave a soft quiet laugh, "_So you're never leaving the library_?" he joked.

"_I could live here,"_ I joked back, and yet deep down in my heart, how real that statement could actually be.

"_So could I,"_

I couldn't begin to understand how two individuals could be any more in tuned to each other. Maybe in more logical terms, we were simply two lonely children searching for a friend. But just when I thought Joseph couldn't be anything but a rare case of "friends" at first sight, I asked him a question and realize that yes, Joseph and I were undoubtedly meant to be together since the first moment our eyes met.

"_What do you do_?" I signed

Joseph stood up and motioned for me to follow him. We walked side by side and I was pleasantly surprised when he brushed his hand against mine and our fingers interlocked. I thought maybe he worked here and was about to show me some secret "employees only" section of the library. I began to imagine a dark room hidden from the rest of the population, where the hard to find and banned books are secretly kept. We stopped in front of a small section of books close to the library entrance. Jason scanned over them for a few seconds before grabbing one and handing in to me. I looked down at a cover I didn't recognize. The cover was of a child twirling; her floral dress spread out, frozen in time, as a ray of sunlight beamed down upon her chestnut hair. And when I read the title, I realized the book I held was already a favorite of mine.

"Where the flowers danced." by J. Fitzgerald.

I turned to look at him, and right when our eyes met, he signed "_I'm a writer._"

And destiny was right.

J for Joseph.

A male author.


End file.
